Be Careful What You Say
by Zanica Black
Summary: It just might come back and bite you in the booty.Dean learns this the hard way when he avoids a woman's advances by telling her him and Sam are 'partners' and she turns out to be a witch.When she finds out they're just brothers,she gets a bit upset. WIP
1. Dean, Buffy boxers, and pie,,, Oh my!

Dean sighed as the mattress he was lying on stopped vibrating. His quarter had run out. Again. He was about to fish another quarter out of his pocket when he caught sight of Sam peering subtly over his laptop.

"Sam, would you just tell me what's goin' on with you?"

Sam jumped so badly that he almost overturned the table he was sitting at. "I'm sorry? Nothing's going on, what are you talking about?"

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes and sat up. "You been starin' at me like I'm a big greasy cheeseburger for the past three hours."

Sam bit his lip and looked pointedly back at his laptop screen. "Have not."

This time, Dean let his eyes roll as much as they wanted to. "Yes. You have. And I let it slide the first four times you told me it was nothing because asking more questions seemed a little awkward but you are officially creepin' me out now Sam. So I'm going to ask you one more time, what's going on?"

"Nothing." Sam stared determinedly at his laptop screen as his face heated up.

Dean huffed in annoyance and flopped back down onto the bed, putting in another quarter for another fifteen minutes of vibrating bliss.

**Four hours earlier…**

"Sam?!" Dean shouted, banging on the door to the witch's cellar. Sam had tripped down them minutes before and the door had ominously slammed shut before Dean could rush down after him.

"I'm fine," Sam called back. There was a beat of silence before wind began to pick up and the sound of a woman chanting filled the air.

"Sam?!" Dean shouted again, kicking at the door furiously. "Shoot her!"

"I'm working on it, I dropped my gun when I fell," Sam snapped as the chanting began to get louder.

"Well find it before she finishes working whatever curse she's chanting out!"

Sam replied but the chanting rose in pitch and volume and Dean couldn't make out what he said.

"I swear to god you evil son of a bitch, if you touch my brother you are going to be sorry!"

The scent of roses, leather, and motor oil drifted through the air and the chanting wound down into silence. The witch had enough time to get five good cackles out before three gun shots pierced the air and the door flung itself open.

Sam stumbled back out of the cellar looking ruffled but relatively alright for having just fallen down a flight of stairs and killed a witch.

"You okay?" Dean asked, patting Sam down quickly in a frantic search for broken bones. "You feel cursed?"

Sam gave him a strange look then slowly shook his head. "N-no, I guess not. Do you?"

Dean frowned. "No, I feel fine. If I'm fine and you're fine then what the hell was that curse supposed to do?"

"I dunno," Sam said, shrugging and shooting Dean a stumped frown. "Maybe it didn't work?"

Dean shrugged back after a moment and turned to walk back out to the Impala. "Guess we got lucky."

"Yeah," Sam replied with an uneasy laugh, eyeing the hole in the seat of Dean's jeans as he followed him out. He could see Dean's Buffy boxers through it. "I guess so."

**Present…**

The bed stopped vibrating again. Dean cracked one eye open just enough to sneak a glance at Sam. He was still watching him. Dean squeezed his eyes shut again and groaned loudly.

"Dude. Go get me some pie. And quit starin' at me."

"I'm not your slave Dean, and I'm not staring at you." Sam was staring intently at his laptop again.

Dean popped one eye open and glowered at Sam. "You're my little brother, that's practically the same thing. And yeah you are."

"I am not!" Sam snapped, standing and snatching his coat off the table. "Fine, I'll go get you some stupid pie. But you have to stop insisting I'm staring at you. It's a little too narcissistic, even for you."

"I'm not a narcissist!" Dean yelled after Sam as he stomped out of the room.

"I just know exactly how devastatingly attractive I am," he grumbled under his breath after the door slammed shut.

Two quarters later, Sam stormed back into the room, scowl still firmly in place, and threw a plastic container and a can of whipped cream at him.

"What kind are you?" Dean crooned at the plastic container, cradling it gently as he searched for the label. "Aw baby, you're cherry? You're my favorite! You know I'm gonna treat you right."

Sam had frozen halfway to the table and was staring at him in a mix of fascination and horror. "You do realize how creepy it is when you talk to your food, right?"

"Don't listen to him baby," Dean whispered to his pie comfortingly. "You'll never just be food to me, I promise."

Sam shook his head in disbelief and walked the rest of the way to the table.

Dean finally turned his attention to the can of whipped cream and his eyes lit up.

"Whipped cream?" he said with the same level of excitement he usually reserved for gorgeous women, new guns, and zombies. "Aw man, you shouldn't have."

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, "I really shouldn't."

Dean ignored him and popped the plastic top off the container, spraying a ridiculous amount of whipped cream onto his pie.

"Everything's better with whipped cream," Dean said reverently. "Everything."

Sam tried valiantly to concentrate on his laptop. Dean moaned around a mouthful of pie and whipped cream and Sam's gaze inched up over the top of his laptop for a full minute before he realized what he was doing and forced it back down again.

"This," Dean said through another forkful of heaven. "Mmmm Sammy, this is like orgasm on a plate."

Sam's gaze snapped back up to Dean and his mouth fell open a little. "Dude."

Dean wasn't paying attention, he was frowning down at his pie. "Or… orgasm in a little plastic thingy?"

Sam was at a loss for words.

Dean's face lit up. "Orgasm with whipped cream on top!"

Sam's mouth opened and closed a few times in disbelief.

Dean frowned again. "No, that bartender in Memphis was orgasm with whipped cream on top."

A little smirk edged onto his face. "What was her name again? Cheri? Mary? Terry! Ah man, she was a good time."

Sam swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his laptop as Dean went back to his pie.

Dean peered over at Sam out of the corner of his eye and noted happily that he wasn't staring at him anymore. He picked up the can of whipped cream and sprayed it into his mouth. He'd forgotten to take into account that when he shut his mouth not all of it would fit anymore, and ended up with whipped cream all over his lower lip and chin.

He snorted and poked his tongue out to lick up the cream. Whipped cream was amazing, you couldn't go around wasting perfectly good whipped cream just because it didn't end up in your mouth.

Dean glanced over at Sam to make sure he hadn't seen him make a complete idiot of himself with the whipped cream and froze, pulling his tongue back into his mouth. Sam was staring at him again with a slightly dazed expression.

Dean slowly poked his tongue back out and ran it across his bottom lip. Sam's eyes tracked its progress with an intensity Dean usually only saw him direct at google and musty old library books.

"Dude, are you watching my tongue?!" Dean asked incredulously.

Sam jumped and toppled right out of his chair, staring guiltily up at Dean and rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor. "No?"

"Oh my God, why are you watching my tongue?!"

Sam flushed bright red as he stood up stiffly and sat back in his chair. "I wasn't."

Dean poked his tongue out again and slid it around full circle, top and bottom lip. Sam's eyes tracked the movement and he swallowed hard before wrenching his eyes back to Dean's defiantly.

"Dude, the hell is going on with you?" Dean asked, eyes wide as he tried to contain his urge to move to the bed furthest from the table. "First you're staring at me, now you're watching my tongue. And if you say nothing so help me God, Sam, I will shoot you."

Sam sighed and leaned his head forward into his hands in mortification. "I don't know."

Dean stared at him for a second. "I'm not messing around Sam, you tell me what's going on or I'm gonna call Bobby and tell him you were watching my tongue and ask him if he has any advice on what my next move should be."

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam snapped, raised his head to glare mutinously at him. "I don't know, okay?"

"No, not okay!" Dean growled. "How long have you been… been… whatever the hell you're doing?"

"I'm not doing anything!" Sam exclaimed, eyebrows scrunching together.

Dean waited silently, giving Sam his best 'I am your older brother and you will tell me what I want to know right now or I will beat you up' glower.

Sam blew out a long defeated sigh. "Since we ganked that witch."

"And what exactly have you been doing?" Dean prodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nothing," Sam began then hesitated when Dean's glare intensified. "Just noticing things, that's all."

Dean quirked an eyebrow as he thought that over. "Like what?"

Sam groaned and let his head fall back into his hands. "You have a hole in your jeans, by the back seam. You're wearing your Buffy boxers."

Dean stared at him then stood up and felt around the back of his jeans until he found the hole. He hummed thoughtfully and sat back down. "What else?"

"Noth-"

"Sam!"

"Your lips!" Sam blurted, looking harassed. "You have… nice… lips."

Dean didn't say anything.

"Dean?" Sam said cautiously.

Dean glanced up at him. "Huh?"

"Say something."

"I'm thinking," Dean snapped, brow furrowed in thought.

"Think out loud, you're making me uncomfortable."

Dean let out a short bark of laughter. "I'm making _you_ uncomfortable?"

"You think it was the curse?" Sam asked, looking worried and ignoring Dean. "Did you notice anything weird?"

"No, just the usual chanting and screaming and cackling," Dean mused, thinking back. His jaw fell open into a silent 'oh'.

"What is it?" Sam asked nervously. "You remember something?"

"Did you smell anything weird when she was chanting that last bit?"

Sam's nose scrunched up in thought. "I think I smelled roses, motor oil, and leather but I was too focused on finding my gun to pay much attention. Why?"

Dean groaned and closed his eyes, biting into his lower lip. "What does leather and motor oil make you think of?"

When he got no response, he cracked his eyes back open to find Sam staring at his lips again.

"Dammit Sammy, focus!"

Sam flinched and forced his eyes shut. "What was the question?"

Dean clenched his jaw in irritation and growled, "What does leather and motor oil make you think of?"

"You, why?" Sam's eyes snapped open and he stared at Dean as comprehension dawned over his features. "Oh God, you."

Dean paled abruptly. "Fuck."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

Dean shook his head shortly, looking horrified. "No, fuck!"

Sam stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Dean?"

"This is my fault!"

"What do you mean this is your fault?!"

**Two Days Ago…**

"Hey there Sugar, what can I get ya?"

The low intimate purr was accompanied by the loud smack of a gum bubble popping. Dean gave her a quick once over. Big fake boobs, fake tan, fake fur vest, fake hair. Probably a fake nose too. Not that attractive, kind of scary. Sort of looked like she wanted to eat him for dinner.

Dean smiled sweetly at her across the counter. "Two queens."

He gestured vaguely over his shoulder towards where Sam had parked the car and was now probably leaning against the side and he leaned in conspiratorially. "My Sammy likes to have two beds in the room, he's makin' me work for it."

The woman reeled back like she'd been smacked and her eyes flicked between Sam and him in surprise. "So you're… with him?"

Dean leveled a thousand watt smile at her and replied, "Yeah, we just got back together a while ago so we're taking a road trip across the country."

"Room twelve," the woman said, looking disappointed as she passed him the key.

Four hours later, Bobby had shown up at their room looking confused. Sam had been out getting pizza.

"Why did the woman at the front desk look so horrified when I asked what room you guys were in?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean suspiciously.

Dean winced. "Did you mention that we were brothers?"

Bobby stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I may have…" Dean coughed awkwardly. "Sort of told her we were gay, so she'd stop hitting on me."

Bobby shook his head slowly. "Ya idjit."

How was Dean supposed to know that the woman he'd pissed off would turn out to be the witch they were hunting?

**Present…**

Sam was staring at Dean, slackjawed. "Great, Dean. You tell the woman we're gay, so she figures it would be hilarious if she curses the one who _wasn't _a lying asshole."

"Maybe?" Dean said, holding his hands up and smiling innocently.

Sam shook his head and let out a short laugh. "You know what she said to me yesterday, before we knew it was her? She said to tell you to be careful what you tell people because the things you say have the strangest ways of coming back to bite you in the ass."

Dean bit his lip and frowned. "Well shit."

Sam groaned and covered his face. "I hate you. And stop biting your lip."

Dean winced and released his lip. "Sorry."

**A/N: Hey there my lovely readers :] It's wonderful to see all of you after such a long hiatus. I hope you like my new story, reviews are food for authors and I am absolutely ravenous! If you like it, toss me a comment, let me know what your favorite parts are so I know which directions the next few chapters should head. Story alerts and author alerts make me dance with glee like that little kid on aol news who ate fried butter but they also make me diiiiie of curiousity, so if you alert me let me know why you liked it? Pretty please? With Sam and Dean Winchester on top? ;]**


	2. In which Sam takes a long shower

Dean was sitting on the bathroom counter glowering at the door. Sam had yelled at him when he'd tried to finish his pie while he was doing research so Dean had taken refuge in the bathroom with his pie and whipped cream.

He took another bite and smiled despite himself. "Oh baby, you are so good to me."

He moaned in bliss as he topped off his next bite with whipped cream.

He was about to take another bite when Sam slammed the door open so hard, Dean was slightly worried it was going to come off the hinges. He froze, fork halfway to his mouth and jaw hanging open.

Sam winced and spun around. He stood there for a moment breathing unsteadily and glaring at the floor before finally saying, "Close your mouth. And quit… being obscene with your pie."

Dean scowled at Sam's back. "I'm not being obscene!"

Sam whirled back around and gave Dean his best 'You're kidding me, right?' look. "You're sitting in here moaning and talking dirty to your pie. You're distracting me. So stop."

Dean gave him an apprehensive look. "Distracting you? That better be a pg rated distraction Sammy or I'm gonna need therapy after this."

Sam scoffed and looked up at the ceiling for strength. "_You're _going to need therapy? I'm the one stuck out here thinking about… about… your stupid pie and your stupid whipped cream and your stupid mouth so just give it a rest!"

Dean took a moment to absorb that, felt a small panic attack coming on, and decided he needed a bite of pie for solidarity.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, clearly about to have a conniption fit. "Stop eating the pie!"

Dean gave Sam an overdramatically scared look and swallowed carefully, automatically licking his lips quickly to make sure there were no crumbs.

"Stop licking your lips!" Sam groaned, covering his face with both hands.

"Sam, get out of my bathroom," Dean snapped, rolling his eyes and holding his pie to his chest defensively. "I'm about to take a shower and I think being naked is worse than eating pie so I'd really like you to leave now."

Sam's hands fell to his sides and he gave Dean a helpless look, slowly turning the color of the cherries in Dean's pie. "Please don't talk about being naked," Sam mumbled weakly, forcing himself to turn around and walk out of the bathroom.

Dean winced and gave Sam a horrified stare. "Please don't _think _about me naked!"

Sam replied by slamming the door.

Dean finished his pie as quietly as he could, Sam only threw four things at the door and shouted once. Dean was calling that a win.

He turned the shower on in the middle of Sam's ranting. Dean wasn't exactly sure what Sam was complaining about anymore but he hadn't stopped talking in the last five minutes. As soon as the water started running, the ranting stopped.

Dean froze, one leg still in his jeans, and cocked his head, glaring suspiciously over his shoulder at the door.

"Sam?" Dean called out after a long moment.

"Dean?" came the dry response from about one centimeter away from the door.

Dean gaped at the door and felt his throat constrict in a way that he knew was going to make his voice sound slightly close to hysterics. "You're not actually standing at the door listening to me shower, are you? Because that's kind of really not okay with me and I think you should get back to your laptop right now before I come out there and make you."

There was a beat of silence before something thunked against the door and slid down to the floor. Dean had a sneaking feeling that the something had actually been Sam.

"Please don't talk about coming out here naked and making me do things. Use your stupid upstairs brain for once and stop making this so hard on me." Sam's voice was rough and low enough to make Dean uncomfortable.

Dean stalked over to the door, kicking his pants the rest of the way off when he almost tripped, and yanked the door open so he could glare down at his little brother while he informed him indignantly that he wasn't naked. This didn't go exactly as planned because Dean hadn't taken into account the fact that Sam was leaning against the door and Sam flailed a little when the door suddenly vanished from behind him.

Dean glared down at Sam and snapped, "I am not naked."

Sam stared up at Dean from the flat of his back in shock for a full minute before his face flushed and he made a choking noise, flinging his hands over his eyes.

"Oh God, I can see up your boxers."

Dean's main line of defense when a situation made him uncomfortable was generally just to say the first snarky thing that wanted to leap out of his mouth. So, with barely a pause to take in what had been said, Dean gave Sam a slow smirk, raising his eyebrows into his classic leer.

"See something you like?"

Sam made an undignified noise that may or may not have sounded something like a squawk and scrambled backwards, right back out into the main room.

Dean grinned in triumph as he swung the door shut. He decided not to worry about whether Sam was listening at the door and he slipped his Buffy boxers off his hips as he padded over to the shower.

Five minutes later, Dean was in the shower, slowly relaxing under the steady stream of hot water. As long as he treated this the way he would any other nonlife-threatening weakness Sam accidentally revealed and teased him mercilessly, this was actually kind of pretty fucking hilarious.

Like when they'd had to go after the crazy man eating clown and he'd made Sam do everything clown-like he possibly could, if he just made Sam as uncomfortable as possible then everything would be normal.

A lazy smile made its way across Dean's face, his new agenda for the foreseeable future was to make Sam uncomfortable without letting on that it was on purpose. He thought maybe this was the best plan he'd ever come up with, it was going to be funny as hell.

Dean shut the water off and climbed out, not bothering to towel off at all, and slung his towel as low as he could on his hips. Dean looked in the mirror and eyed his towel with a smirk, another half an inch lower and he would be downright NC-17.

He opened the door casually and sauntered over to his duffel bag, taking care to walk as close to Sam as he could without it being obvious. Sam swallowed audibly and Dean had to force himself not to laugh. He leaned down to sift through his clothes, sticking his butt out just enough to make it the focal point, and took his time picking out his boxers for the day.

Dean set a pair of black boxer-briefs on the bed behind him without turning around and moved his hands to the towel as though he was going to drop it so he could get dressed.

Sam made a strangled noise and the chair clattered to the ground as he raced into the bathroom and slammed the door. The shower turned on a few seconds later.

Dean snickered quietly to himself as he plucked a different pair of boxer-briefs out of the bag and slipped them on, leaving the black pair on the bed. He pulled out the pair of jeans Sam had shrunk in the wash a year ago and tugged them on. They'd been his favorite pair of jeans before Sam had shrunk them. The only place they were almost too tight was in the ass though so Dean figured they were perfect. The last time he'd worn them out to a bar, he'd gotten hit on by a record eight people.

He didn't put much effort into selecting his shirts for the day, he was pretty sure he didn't have to try to be attractive and it felt a little too girly to put that much thought into an outfit no matter how great the comedic pay off was promising to be.

Dean grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed Bobby before he could change his mind.

"What is it now?"

"Well hello to you too, Bobby."

"Yeah, yeah, I left twenty minutes ago. Are you calling to tell me I have to come back?"

Dean paused and glanced at the bathroom door. Sam was going to kill him for telling Bobby about this.

"We're thinking that curse might not have been as impotent as it seemed."

Bobby cursed loudly for a minute and Dean heard tires screeching, presumably as Bobby swung the car around back towards town without touching the brakes much at all.

"What are the symptoms? You don't sound too panicked for your brother having witch mojo on him, is he okay?"

Dean laughed shortly. "Oh he's fine, he's just a little…excitable at the moment."

"Excitable?" Bobby drawled, sounding skeptical. "How so?"

"Trust me, you don't want to hear this on the road."

"Dammit Dean, you boys are gonna be the death of me when are you gonna learn that you gotta be careful?"

Dean scoffed. "We are careful! We just have bad luck, that's all."

"Yeah, it's got nothing to do with you idjits rushing in halfcocked every damn place you go."

Dean spluttered a little, scowling at the phone when he couldn't come up with a decent come back. "Just get here."

He could almost hear Bobby rolling his eyes at the phone. "On my way."

Slipping the phone into his shirt pocket, Dean turned to the bathroom door suspiciously. Sam was usually in and out in five minutes flat. It had been close to fifteen. He stood up and walked over to the door, listening for a minute.

"Sam? Come on, what's taking so long?"

There was a clatter that sounded like the complimentary shampoos hitting the tiles and Dean quirked an eyebrow.

"Sammy?"

"Mmmmnnnngh, oh God."

Dean's jaw dropped and he felt his face heat up as the water shut off abruptly.

The door opened a few seconds later and Sam leveled him with a glare so furious that, even if Dean had known what to say in a situation like this, he'd have forgotten it all.

"Do not speak to me while I'm in the shower," he said tightly, eyes glued to Dean's open mouth. "And if you do? Don't call me Sammy."

Dean's mouth snapped shut and he swallowed hard, tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously. Sam's eyes followed his tongue intently.

"My eyes are up here, _Sammy_," Dean said, sarcasm soaking his tone. "And dude. I called you Sammy when you were like five. That should so not be a trigger."

Sam squared his shoulders and gave Dean a mulish frown. "If I tell you it always has been will you stop calling me that?"

"I don't want to know your triggers," Dean snapped, wincing. "And no I won't stop calling you that, probably couldn't if I tried, but thanks for associating it with sex."

Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean his very best bitch face. "What was so important that you had to interrupt my shower to tell me?"

"I really don't think there was much showering going on in there," Dean said letting a grin slide onto his face.

"Dean." Sam was clearly not as amused by Dean's snarky comments as Dean was.

Dean sighed and wandered back towards his bed. "Bobby's on his way back, so hurry up with your… showering."

Sam stared at him. "Bobby? You told Bobby?!"

Dean grinned in earnest this time as he popped a quarter into the slot and his bed began to vibrate. "Nah, thought I'd let you have the pleasure. He'll be here in ten, so hurry up _Sammy._"

Sam's eyes flickered between his face and the vibrating bed a few times. "I hate you."

"Love you too!" Dean yelled after him as the door slammed shut again.

**A/N: Hello again my lovely readers :] I hope you like the new chapter, reviews are food for authors and I am absolutely ravenous! If you like it, toss me a comment, let me know what your favorite parts are so I know which directions the next few chapters should head. Story alerts and author alerts make me dance with glee but they also make me diiiiie of curiousity, so if you alert me let me know why you liked it? Pretty please? With Sam and Dean Winchester on top? ;]**

**Next chapter: Bobby helps our boys figure out exactly what's wrong with Sam and how long this particular type of curse typically lasts just in time for Castiel to show up. He has a case for Sam and Dean but is Sam really in any condition for a case? And what has Dean got up his sleeve? Is that... a popsicle? No... It's a banana? No... Vanilla Ice Cream? Whatever it is, Sam doesn't have a snowball's chance against Dean doing what Dean does best: Being sexy.**


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